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ohvaI have tons of friends. They're just all online.
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'Vikings' Season 3 Episode 5 Spoilers: The Fleet
Will Face 'Tragic Circumstances' After Returning to Kattegat
By Robert C. Weich
First Posted: Mar 16, 2015 03:01 PM EDT
(Photo : Twitter/Vikings)
THIS TWEET THIS
The next episode of "Vikings," "The
Usurper," will bring trouble to the fleet.
According to Christian Times, the synopsis said, "The
fleet returns to Kattegat to discover tragic circumstances await."
though viewers of History Channel's series "Vikings" have seen
several characters die on the show, Episode 4 featured a main character's
death, according to International Business Times.
of Season 3 is titled "Scarred." In the episode, viewers saw the
death of beloved character Siggy, who dies while saving the lives of Ragnar's
children who had fallen through the ice and into freezing water.
Siggy saw the children fall in, she immediately dove in after them and saved
their lives from an icy death. Jessalyn Gilsig, who portrays Siggy, told The Hollywood Reporter that she knew that her
character would act this way.
she first goes after the children, it just speaks to who Siggy is," she
just does what anybody would do. The children are falling through the ice, and
she knows that unless she goes in and gets them, they're going to die,"
saving the children, Siggy starts to realize she is in a near-death situation.
She then starts having a vision of her daughter Thyri. Thyri died of the plague
in Season 1.
vision convinces her to surrender to death and "let the Gods take
her," so she could re-unite with her family.
so unexpected and such a great honoring of the backstory that (writer) Michael
[Hirst] created," Gilsig said.
actually was the one who suggested her own character's death. She admitted to
going to Hirst and telling him that she missed her family. Hirst was kind about
her request and came up with a storyline for Siggy's death.
death is not gruesome though. Instead of a bloody death, her sinking into the
water is quite artistic.
in this hole in the ice, she's caught between these two worlds. She can fight
to pull herself out of the situation, or she can let the fates take her, and
hopefully be reunited with her family. She's such a loner. She's such a
solitary figure. She's lost so much. I think she makes that choice to give up
the fight," she told Entertainment Weekly.
you think about "Vikings" deciding to kill off one of the main
characters of the show?
Mar 17 15 10:01 PM
ohva wrote:For most of the episode last night we thought he was some con artist spy/intruder for Lagertha's usurper earl. We thought he was going to somehow take at least Aslaug and her children as captives to Lagertha's village, so that when everyone returned from England, the usurper had a bargaining chip. That makes zero sense in retrospect since it would only involve Ragnar in Lagertha's fight, but that's what we were thinking at the moment. After thought--the group he has assembled ARE Ragnars enemies, not Lagertha's--odd. Why drag Ragnar into it? He must be presuming that Ragnar will immediately fight on Lagertha's behalf.
At the end it was clear that this man was likely one of the gods walking the earth. I don't know which one, Loki would make sense. But I thought he transformed and showed himself as a goddess at Siggy's death, which would not be Loki. So I thought it was cool that it was a goddess. But the interview said that the young woman shown at her death was Siggy's daughter. I don't remember her daughter being that old or looking like that, but maybe that's not the point. Jessica hints at his return in the interview. So the story isn't over.
We also discussed what it must have been like mentally for the women left behind without the protection of their men in the Scandinavian dark and cold, for months, how that would blend their real/not real worlds.
What I love most is how Hirst is MAKING us come to the Vikings's perspectives, he's not changing them or making them explain themselves to appease our 21st century minds. Each season it seems that he and the cast better convey their characters and time period. If the Vikings thought a god walked among them, it was fact, there's no pandering to rationalize what's happening to the modern viewers.
For my own laughs--there are some inconsistencies in the filming. It looks to be summertime in England, but late winter in Denmark/Scandinavia. They're not THAT far apart.
Mar 20 15 9:29 AM
Vikings Ep. 5 | Aired Mar 19 Posted March 19 2015 — 12:36 PM EDT Ragnar Lothbrok arrives back in Kattegat, ready to leave. The young King is restless. His adventures in England have been prosperous. He has made new allies: Ecbert of Wessex, Kwenthrith of Mercia. Their alliance was sealed with blood and earth. And more: For Ragnar’s ex-wife lay with Ecbert, and Ragnar lay with Kwenthrith, and Athelstan broke his vow of celibacy to lie with Judith, wife of Ecbert’s son. Yet Ragnar’s mood is dark. He dreams of more adventures. “Tell me about Paris,” he asks Athelstan, man of many gods. Athelstan tells a tale of his younger days, when he was a servant of the Christ-God. “It was like a dream. It has huge walls. I remember the clamor of bells calling the faithful to prayer.” Ragnar, intrigued, leans forward.“What I remember more,” says Athelstan, “is the beautiful women.” “You are lucky,” Ragnar tells the once-priest. “You have never been married. I would not come back here, if it weren’t for my children.”There is a darkness over Ragnar and his kin, on this day of unhappy reunion. His old friend Floki watches Athelstan the way a bird of prey watches everything. Thorunn lays wounded, face half torn away, not thirsty and not hungry and not really alive. When Ragnar’s boats land on the beach, there are two pregnant women waiting for Torstein; he’s in Valhalla now, of course. And so is Siggy: Good people lost at home, and abroad.“This is my fault,” says Rollo the Unlucky. ” I did not treat her well. It’s the truth. You all know it.” They do. Rollo has a cursed destiny, or perhaps he curses his own destiny. He is strong, but always weak. So he drowns himself in drink while the warriors celebrate. The skies open up and the rain pours down onto Kattegat; as if the gods refuse to let these men walk upon dry land. The other warriors laugh at Rollo. Haven’t they all lost someone? Brothers, cousins, friends: All fell under sword or bow, in that faraway land of murdered gods and coward Kings. “What is so special about you?” they ask Rollo. In the rage of mourning, he tries to fight them all. His nephew Bjorn Ironsides appears, trying to help him. But fury doesn’t recognize family: So soon enough Rollo is fighting Bjorn, the rain pouring down upon them, the mud and blood mixing all together. “Hit me!” begs Rollo. “Hit me!” Bjorn obliges him. The audience cheers: “Kill him! Kill him!” they say. (Any “him” will do.) When a man returns from a long season of raiding, he might look forward to a reunion: With his loving wife, his growing children, the land that bore him. Not so Ragnar, who returns to deception and mystery. Why was Siggy watching his children? Why were his children out racing on the ice? Aslaug is not telling him something. She comes to him, still a vision of beauty after so many years of marriage and hardship. She kisses him. He stands up; he walks away. “What is it?” his wife asks. “You had so much sex in England you don’t need it?”The rain continues to fall outside. Inside Ragnar’s hall, Lagertha talks about their distant colony. She is proud of her work; she wonders if more people will go join the farmers. Floki laughs. “They can go work for a Christian king, in a Christian country. Perhaps they’ve convert to Christianity.” Athelstan reminds him that, after all, a man is free to do what he will. Is that true? The first few episodes of Vikings season 3 let our characters inhabit a kind of in-between place: A nexus moment for Viking and English culture, a place and time wherein Viking farmers could plow English country and Viking warriors could fight against Saxons alongside other Saxons. It was far from utopia: heads rolled, sister killed brother. But surely it is progress when Ragnar Lothbrok and Ecbert of Wessex could sit together, drinking as fellow men, speaking each other’s language. Floki is not so sure. His ears perk when Helga tells the tale of Harbard the Wanderer, seducer of Aslaug, healer of Ivar, Harbard the Premonitioned.“Harbard is not a human being,” says Floki. “Harbard is a god. Such a visit must always be celebrated.”But his visit led to death—surely that is not worthy of celebration? “If it leads to death, it also leads to life,” says Floki. “That is the way of the gods.”A messenger arrives in Kattegat, bearing poor tidings. Earl Ingstad is Earl no longer: Kalf has usurped her. (Perhaps it was Odin himself who spoke to Kalf, commanding: “Usurp her, usurper!”)Lagertha goes to Ragnar. She supported him in Wessex; time now for him to support her. Ragnar has no taste for a Civil War. Or perhaps he is just bored with these matters of domestic policy: In times of great strife, many leaders look outward from their troubled countries, seeking someplace to conquer or flee to. Ragnar has much to flee from. He sits alone with his wife. They do not look at each other. The camera captures them perfectly: We see them both framed in focus, their partner far across the room out of focus. “Who is Harbard?” Ragnar asks. “He was a good man,” says Aslaug. He cured Ivar of his pain. Ragnar smiles: One of those smiles where you can’t tell if he’s amused or angry or going mad. He picks up his son, Ivar Boneless; the child cries. Children: They’re the future, and the future is often a problem for the present. Across the sea in Wessex, Judith has a problem. She is with child. “That’s impossible,” says Aethelwulf. “We have not slept together as man and wife since our son was born. ” Poor Aethelwulf. He is not a malevolent man; he is too noble to be a brute and too dumb to be evil. Yet he’s also not imaginative enough to be forgiving. His wife is pregnant, and not by him: He is furious. What a moment for his lord father to call him into the throne room—to demand that he go up to the Viking colony, and solve a dispute between the Northmen and the Wessex farmers. King Ragnar goes to see the Seer, to ask him about Paris. The seer has seen its gates. He knows that Paris will be conquered: Not by the living, but by the dead. “I also see that the bear will be crowned by a princess,” says the Seer. “Which does not bode too well for you, King Ragnar.” The Seer laughs and the King laughs. Perhaps the Seer knows more, but he must withhold it. “Human beings cannot bear too much reality,” he says, and if History doesn’t put out T-shirts with that slogan then they’re leaving money on the table. Speaking of T-shirt slogans! “I’ve made up my mind,” says Ragnar. “And this year, we shall attack Paris.” He’s in his great hall, surrounded by his subjects. They’ve been back nary a week from their last raid; already, Ragnar is looking ahead. No one’s even heard of Paris, but Ragnar spins a tale: Of a huge wall, a well-protected city; of achieving something that our people have never dreamt of before. Floki is happy about this—but less happy when Ragnar explains that Athelstan of the Christ-God told him all about Paris. Ragnar declares his intention to find another knowledgeable source: The Wanderer who first told him about England. “It is good to travel with hope and courage,” says Ragnar. “But is it better to travel… with knowledge!” How his subjects cheer at this! “Praise knowledge!” they sing. “All hail mighty knowledge!”But Ragnar promised Lagertha to visit Kalf the Usurper. So he does: Just long enough to disrespect his ex-wife by making a deal with the new Earl of Hedeby. Ragnar speaks softly, carries a big stick: He demands Kalf sail with Kattegat to Paris, or else lose everything. Kalf agrees; does he not seek glory, too? Which leaves Lagertha, no longer an earl, unmarried and unbeholden, forced to listen to her former protégé explain how he desires her. Rollo was right: You can’t trust a man. Poor Rollo. Rollo the Unlucky, Rollo the Unloved, Rollo the Fredo. Rollo goes to see the Seer, perhaps because he has no one else to talk to. “Ragnar was always chosen over me,” he says. “By my father, my mother, my Lagertha.” He continues: Being alive is nothing. Doesn’t matter what I do. Ragnar is my father, he is Lagertha, he is Siggy—he is everything I cannot do. Everything I cannot be. I love him. He is my brother. He has taken be back. But I am so angry. Why am I still so angry? It is because I am useless. Hollowed out by failed ambitions, by failed loves. Nothing good can ever come out of my life now. Clive Standen’s mostly been in the background so far this season. But he nails this showcase monologue. There is something fundamentally tragic about Rollo—tragic in a way that feels much more modern than the other characters. Rollo could be a great man, but he lives in his brother’s shadow—or perhaps that is the easy explanation for how his life has come to ruin. (Ragnar didn’t make Rollo a bad boyfriend; Ragnar didn’t make Rollo a traitor, or a miserable drunk.) Rollo is the Pete Campbell to Ragnar’s Don Draper, the Luigi to his brother’s Mario. The Seer laughs at him. But not just because Rollo is pitiful. “Oh Rollo,” says the old monster, “If you truly knew what the gods had in store for you, you would go down and dance naked on the beach.” He tells Rollo the same premonition he told his brother: A bear will marry a princess. Rollo gets one extra tidbit: “You will be present at the ceremony.”The sagas sing of the day in far-off England, the land across the sea. The Northmen awake and plow the land—land that was theirs by writ of alliance, land that King Ragnar Lothbrok of Kattegat earned in blood. But on this day Aethelwulf of Wessex rides upon the settlement, hacking and hewing and slashing throats of man and woman, mother and child. Two children hide from the English. But the elder child, whose name is lost, emerges. The men of Wessex have taken his mother; the child hacks at the English with an ax; soon the child is dead, and the mother, too. The young child runs up the hillside, looking back for just a moment at Aethelwulf the Uncurious. The child turns. Perhaps he walks toward the coastline; perhaps he is too young to know where home lies, and seeks only escape. The gods alone know: An English arrow sends him aground. Later, after the slaughter, Aethelwulf brings his men together at the foot of a giant cross. “It was all for our Lord!” he declares, and his men set the cross afire, and the English kneel down and pray. Why do they burn this symbol of their devotion? Who can say with these Christians? Back in Kattegat, Lagertha considers leaving. She has no destination, no purpose. She was the wife of an earl; she divorced one and attacked another. She bore a good strong child, Bjorn Ironsides; she sailed to England with her once-husband Ragnar; now, what does she have? Bjorn has dreamed of his parents going with him to Paris; he is still a child. Ragnar sits on a boat in the harbor. He is home; he wants to leave. Floki appears over his shoulder, telling him all the things he does not know. This Harbard, he slept with Aslaug. This Harbard, he was Odin. “Odin slept with your wife,” Floki says. Ragnar slouches, falls backward off the ship’s sail. He is annoyed, more than anything: By his wife, by Floki, by all these miserable problems. Perhaps Ragnar’s tragedy is that, or all his curiosity, for all his hope for a more peaceful future, he is a warrior first and foremost. Much easier to fight a battle than win peace. Perhaps that is why Ragnar’s equal is also his perfect nemesis. For King Ecbert is not a warrior; he’s too smart for that. Ecbert is angry with his son, with his nobles: They have violated a treaty he signed in good faith. He has the nobles arrested; he makes a big speech about how his word will mean nothing now. It never did. When they are alone in his chambers, Ecbert thanks his son. “You did the business so well,” he says. How could they ever let the Northmen establish themselves, here on English shores? It was all a ruse, all of it: Now Ecbert can blame the demise of the colony on his traitorous nobles, and legally eliminate them—he consolidates his power and kicks the Northmen out of England once again. “Even Charlemagne would’ve approved,” he tells his loyal, dumb son. A question to ponder: Was this Ecbert’s plan all along? For a moment, I thought that Ecbert was just using this sad turn of events to his advantage. And I wonder if, perhaps, Ecbert developed this plan gradually—if he was serious about the Viking colony, before it became clear that his subjects would never live in peace with the pagans. But perhaps not: Perhaps, from the very beginning, Ecbert was using the Vikings. He dangled the carrot in front of them—land to farm!—used their fighting force to defeat the Mercians, waited until Ragnar was far away, and then eliminated the colonists. Ecbert is curious, like Ragnar: Interested in other cultures, intrigued by the possibility of merging different societies together. But Ecbert is a vicious ruler: He will do whatever is necessary to increase his power. Was Floki right all along? Was Ragnar’s dream of an agricultural future just a dream—just the mist of the morning? What really happened in Wessex? What was it all for? And what will happen in Paris?
Mar 20 15 11:00 PM
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Mar 27 15 1:06 PM
Ep. 6 | Aired Mar 26
Posted March 26 2015 — 11:00 PM EDT
“The things I do for you,” says the live man to the dead one.
'Vikings' recap: 'The Usurper'
They are always talking to each other, these two. They have so much to say. We begin with them in the dirty sand along the fjord. Athelstan the Conflicted describes Paris to Ragnar Lothbrok. The River Seine. The city on an island. The walls and towers, the bridge. “This city is impregnable,” says the monk-turned-slave-turned-Viking. King Ragnar smiles. No wall has been built that won’t someday crumble.
There is happy news for the family of Ragnar. Thorunn, beloved of Bjorn, goes into labor. She does not want the child; she believes it will be weak, deformed. “You will love it just the same,” says Aslaug; somewhere in Kattegat, little Ivar sleeps peacefully, bent but unbroken. The child appears: a daughter, the first grandchild of Ragnar and Lagertha. “I would like to call her Siggy,” says Bjorn—a final honor bestowed upon an old, dead friend.
Between episode 5 and 6, we appear to have skipped over a long winter, to judge by all the births in this episode. It must be spring: Surely that explains the sight of Rollo, resplendent in fur, standing tall again. He is born again.
But the same cannot be said for the far-away settlement in Wessex. A lonely old man arrives in the city, with a tale of woe. He disturbs Ragnar’s slumber, in the most hilarious way possible:
The settlement has been destroyed by Aethelwulf the Dull. “The slaughter was great,” he says. “All our men. Their wives. Our children.” The story continues: A few lonely survivors, stealing a ship from the Christians, blown off course to a frozen bay, foundering on the ice with land in sight. “I saw my eldest son die before my eyes,” the man says. “And here I am, my lord, a broken man who only wants to die and rejoin his family.”
Ragnar cries for his dead people—and for his dead dream of a farming colony. Floki is angry, but triumphant. He tells Ragnar that their adventure was doomed from the start. Ragnar promises vengeance on Aethelwulf and his father. “And Athelstan?” asks Floki, murder in his eyes. Ragnar is horrified. “If anyone is to blame, it is me,” he tells Floki.
The ship-builder walks away, angry. Ragnar turns to the old man. Has he told anyone else his story? The man says no. Ragnar hugs him, kisses his forehead—and sends him to meet his family, in whatever corner of Valhalla the gods reserve for men born to suffer.
And yet in death there is rebirth. For across the sea, Lord Aethelwulf welcomes a new son. Well, “welcomes.” Once the princeling confirms that his wife is healthy, he sends in some monks who look like the Observers from Fringe. The monks bring her to the town square, where the mob awaits her. The bishop reads her sins: Adultery. Her punishment: Her ears cut off, her nose removed. “Our Lord Jesus never advocated such barbarism!” says Judith, clearly a progressive Biblical scholar. “Please, husband! Please, father!”
Her awful screams echo throughout Wessex. Her father-in-law, Ecbert, begs her to reveal the father of her child. Perhaps he is remembering better, quieter moments: A bath among friends, a warrior woman with hair blonde as sun, a strange little man who walked between two worlds. (Ecbert has never been more powerful; has he ever been less happy?) Judith refuses. And then Michael Madsen cuts her ear off, to the tune of “Stuck in the Middle With You.”
“Athelstan,” she says, a scream but also a whisper. Ecbert hears her. He confers with his idiot son. “I cannot blame my daughter-in-law for being attracted to such a man of God,” he says. “In my own mind, there is no doubt of Athelstan’s deep spirituality, and his close relationship with God.”
Aethelwulf is getting the picture: “You think God had a hand in this conception?” Maybe Ecbert does; maybe he just doesn’t want his daughter-in-law to lose another ear. For whatever reason, he declares Judith’s son to be a special child—comparing the princess to the blessed virgin. “There will be a christening after all. And the boy’s name will be Alfred.”
As Vikings writer Michael Hirst told me in a post-show Q&A, that little boy Alfred will indeed grow into someone very, very special. Perhaps God did have a hand in Alfred’s conception. In distant Kattegat, Alfred’s father has a vision: A light in the darkness, a voice in the silence.
“I was dead, but I’m reborn!” says the live man, killing himself.
Athelstan’s entire life since Vikings began has been defined by confusion. He was a man of God, but God abandoned him; his life was saved by a pagan who became a King. So he was a follower of the pagan gods; he was crucified, and saved by a Christian King. Powerful men from very different cultures recognized a kindred spirit in Athelstan. He was curious—and frustrated.
But now, Athelstan’s confusion is gone. He has been given the gift of sight, the gift of faith. “Father, hear my prayer, and let my cry come unto thee!” he says, narrating his own Terrence Malick movie as he walks into the water.
Athelstan runs to see his friend, Ragnar. He tells him of his epiphany. He has been born again. “Born again?” asks Ragnar. “Like a baby?” Ragnar is happy for his friend—but when Athelstan threatens to leave, Ragnar is furious and sad. “You cannot leave me! I love you, and you’re the only one I can trust.” Ragnar promises his friend that no one will hurt him—a promise he certainly cannot keep. Poor Ragnar Lothbrok: A mighty King in the North, blessed with two wives and many sons and many warriors, and the only man he can trust is a follower of the Christ-God from the land across the sea.
Warriors arrive; the season of raiding will begin again soon. Here is Earl Kalf of Hedeby; here is Earl Siegfried of Bicepville; and here is King Horik’s son and Jarl Borg’s widow, the Season 2 Big Bad Henchman Alliance. “I have to say,” says Ragnar, “I’m a little caught off-guard seeing you here.” Bygones must be bygones; so Horik’s son wanders into the village where his father died, so Jarl Borg’s widow walks past the spot her husband died, his ribs cracked open, his lungs open his shoulders. “How’s the settlement in Wessex?” asks the son of Hork. “Good,” says Ragnar. “Better than good,” he adds, “Super good. Great. Spectacular. You’ve never seen a settlement like the settlement in Wessex. Actually, the settlement’s doing so well, they built 450 Launch Arcos and achieved the Exodus Event, and now they’re so bored that they’re starting fires just so they can put them out. Great settlement! Welp, off to Paris!”
A great feast in the throne room, old friends and allies and enemies and lovers. Earl Kalf the Usurper sees Lagertha the Usurped, and promises that their destinies are locked together. Bjorn Ironsides sees his wife, Thorunn, and begs her to lay with him—but she begs off, suggesting he visit with Torvi, wife of two of Ragnar’s worst enemies. (Bygones = bygones.) Athelstan appears, and all goes quiet—for Floki saw him throw his arm ring into the water.
Rollo seems to be threatening violence—but Ragnar brings his Christian friend back to meet a guest. The Wanderer Ragnar has always talked about, who first guided the young farmer to England. He speaks the language of the Franks; he knows how to find the mouth of the Seine.
Outside, the singers sing, the dancers dance. Torvi finds Bjorn, sitting alone on the beach. She will come to Paris, she says; she will not be left behind. “You’re brave,” says Bjorn. “I’m Viking,” she says. “I love my wife,” says Bjorn, kissing the woman who is not his wife.
Not for Floki, the celebrations of friend and ally. In the forest, Floki works hard on the figureheads for his ships. He carves into one—and blood flows down its forehead. A vision, he is sure: Perhaps now is the special season when the walls between the worlds crumble, when the gods speak more clearly. This is the sign Floki has been waiting for. Some men lust for women, others gold; Floki only wants to please the gods.
He tells Helga that he has a secret mission; no one must know about it. Helga is confused, worried; Floki grasps her neck, makes her promise not to tell anyone. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says. “No,” says Helga, “But I think you mean to hurt someone.”
The men of Kattegat sing a song in the square. A fire burns. Athelstan sits in his home, praying before a small cross, praying in the words his old masters taught him, when he was a monk lo those many lives ago.
“Floki,” he says.
“Priest,” says Floki.
They see each other, in the darkness. They are men of gods. They have received messages from beyond. Or anyhow, they have chosen to interpret their visions as messages. One god demands blood; another, acceptance. If all this spiritual stuff is too woozy for you, you can choose to read this scene as an expression of the rivalry between two very different men: One man who believes in peace, the other in war. Or maybe it’s even more accurate to read this as a kind of revenge by a spurned lover—for once upon a time, no one was closer to Ragnar than Floki; and now, it is Athelstan who has Ragnar’s ear.
Regardless: Athelstan raises his hands outward, in the sign of the cross, and Floki hacks into him. It’s all very Apocalypse Now—and after Athelstan dies, Floki rubs his blood across his forehead, and tastes it on his tongue.
It is later: the next day, perhaps. Ragnar rides his horse up a hillside; another horse follows behind, with Athelstan’s body wrapped up tight. The road runs away; Ragnar climbs up the hillside. “The things I do for you!” the live man tells the dead one. “For such a little man, Athelstan, you are terribly heavy.”
So King Ragnar Lothbrok carries Athelstan the Christian up the mountain outside Kattegat, until he finds a spot high above the matters of men. The sound of the water, the wind through the trees. “This is as close to your god as I can get you,” says the King, who digs the grave himself. He sticks one long stick into the ground. He tells his friend:
Never knew what a martyr was. I still don’t. You were a brave man, Athelstan. I always respected you for that. You taught me so much. You saw yourself as weak and conflicted. But to me, you were fearless, because you dared to question. Why did you have to die, hmmm? We had so much more to talk about. I always believed that death is a fate far better than life, for you will be reunited with lost loved ones. But we will never meet again, my friend. I have a feeling that your god might object to me visiting you in heaven.
“I hate you for leaving me,” cries Ragnar. “There is nothing that can console me now. I am changed. So are you.” Ragnar tied another long stick to the stick in the ground, and so formed the sign of the Christ-God. His friend Athelstan was crucified upon a cross like that, long ago, in the land across the sea. The cross couldn’t kill him; but no man lives forever.
The King lingers for a moment in the stream. He cuts his hair bald—a tribute to his fallen friend, who was bald on top when they first met so long ago. “Forgive me my friend,” says Ragnar Lothbrok. “Not for what I have done, but for what I’m about to do.” The blood falls down his face, like tears. And there are tears, too.
Mar 27 15 1:12 PM
I have some intense deadlines today, but last night's episode is one that deserves some articles about it.
I'll try to post these and some others later, but the interviews with George Blagden and Michael Hirst are good.
There's a fair amount of hate on Floki, which is no surprise. There are also a lot of people who felt Athelstan's story was dragging along, there was not much more to be said about his character and his angst, and were ok with his going.http://www.ew.com/article/2015/03/26/vikings-shocker-michael-hirst-talks-death-spoiler
Mar 27 15 4:46 PM
Mar 27 15 4:59 PM
The Floki war rages on. Here's tumblr. I usually view by list, and by most recent:
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